


Just a Word

by fox_Crossing



Series: Shahar Tabris [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Zevran has feelings?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-12-04 05:38:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11548602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fox_Crossing/pseuds/fox_Crossing
Summary: It just slipped out one day. Zevran had been mixing poisons for their weapons one evening and he’d needed some additional distillation agents for his mix.It wasn’t a problem, he told himself. It didn’t mean anything. And no one at the camp knew Antivan.Of course, Leliana knew Orlesian.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote and published during my lunch break, so I can't promise it's any good. But here it is!
> 
> ***Newly edited!***
> 
> Ugh, after reading so much lore I've decided to use Italian for Antivan instead of Spanish. It seems the later games and media settled on that. So, this fic has been altered slightly to reflect that.
> 
> This will be tricky because I know very little Italian, but here we go.

It just slipped out one day. Zevran had been mixing poisons for their weapons one evening and he’d needed some additional distillation agents for his mix.

“Amore, do you have- ” he froze mid-sentence. Shahar looked at him, working on her own concoctions. Brown eyes curious at his sudden pause. He faked a cough, remembering that she didn’t know Antivan. “Do you have any distillation agents?” he finished.

It’s not like he hadn’t called other people his “love” before. He said it quite frequently with marks, affairs with Antivan nobles, young maidens and stable boys whose clothes he yearned to remove for the first time. The affectation abruptly dropped off as soon as either party had gotten what they wanted.

If there’d only been two other people in the world he’d ever called “amore” during casual conversation, he didn’t acknowledge it.

It started happening more often. He tried to keep it to the tent, but it slipped out during breakfast one morning. And again after a fight when she’d been nicked by an arrow. And again when he was trying to explain something to her and he’d become exasperated.

Shahar asked him what it meant. Of course she would. He said it was just a pet name- like “honey” or “sweet thing.” Even that had her eyebrow quirking, but she’d accepted it with a smile and a tease, as always, and Zevran sighed in relief.

It wasn’t a problem, he told himself. It didn’t mean anything. And no one at the camp knew Antivan.

Of course, Leliana knew Orlesian.

She slid up beside him on the road one day, her silent footsteps betraying her Chantry garb.

“So,” she started, an annoyingly _knowing_ smile playing on her lips. “You and Shahar are doing well, I see.”

Zevran wasn’t quite sure where this was going, but really he could take it in any direction. “You think so? She did the most _marvelous_ thing with her tongue last night. Would you like to hear about it?” he leaned in conspiratorially.

Leliana’s eyebrows furrowed a bit. “Umm, no.”

Zevran grinned. These Southerners were so easy sometimes. “Ah, you are more for a demonstration then? If you insist,” he shrugged, palms facing up.

Leliana opened her mouth to snap at him, but then paused. To his surprise, the angry look on her face shifted into a soft smile. “You are trying to change the subject. You don’t want me to ask about Shahar, do you?”

Zevran brushed off the mild irritation that was coalescing in his shoulders. He sighed. “My dear Leliana, if there something you wish to imply, I must admit I am at a loss as to what.”

Leliana smile didn’t budge. Zevran felt his irritation growing. “I hear what you call her. What was it again? _Amore_?”

Zevran’s gut tightened.

“You know, in Orlesian, we have the same word. I wonder if it means the same thing…” she trailed off, looking up at the sky in false consideration. “I’ve heard the languages are very similar.”

Zevran frowned. Then, consciously smoothing out his features into something more pleasant, he responded. “I wouldn’t know. It is used rather frequently in Antiva. I named my first pair of boots _miei amori._ And Shahar is a former mark, so really it’s quite fitting.”

Leliana looked taken aback at the implication, knowing from experience exactly what he was implying. That had been too harsh, Zevran thought guiltily. It certainly wasn’t how he felt about Shahar.

Why was this conversation bothering him so much? Why couldn’t Leliana just leave it alone?

How _did_ he feel about Shahar?

Leliana’s shock turned quickly into a warning glare. “If you are still a danger to her, I swear to the Maker-”

Zevran raised his hands non-threateningly. “Leliana,” he said with all the force of charm he could muster. “If I were to have done anything to our fearless leader, I would have done it by now. Rest assured, I have no additional motives for ‘sleeping with the boss,’ so to speak.”

“No?” she asked accusingly. _Well, at the she’s changed topics,_ he thought resignedly. “And when the Crows come asking where you’ve been? Will you still be a ‘friend’ then?” The Bard had clearly been pondering that one for a while.

He scowled openly at the accusation. “When the Crows ask where I’ve been, it will be _after_ they’ve already put a knife in my back.” He’d been gone for months now. There was no going back.

Unless…

No, it didn’t bear thinking on. He knew what the price would be, and he’d already decided he couldn’t do it. He may be… confused about his feelings toward Shahar, but the thought of killing her made him feel sick, almost dizzy. He killed so many others, he could picture slipping his knife into her easily. Just between the ribs, right into her heart. Brown eyes widening at the betrayal, blood bubbling out of her mouth, mixing with the red of her hair…

Acid rose in the back of his throat. Rinna flashed through his mind, if only for a moment. No. No matter who came for him, there was no going back now.

Leliana stared at him for another moment. Then shrugged. “Well, I just wanted to say, I think she likes you too.”

Zevran chuckled, pulled out of his nightmares for the moment. “I certainly hope so, my dear.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Leli.

“Leliana, what does ‘amore’ mean?” Shahar asked suddenly. She sounded exasperated.

Leliana’s expression froze on her face. “Amour?” she clarified, making sure to stress the Orlesian ‘r’-- the sound that made it distinctly not Antivan. “Why do you ask?” she asked lightheartedly.

Shahar tilted her head to the side, giving her a look. “It means ‘love,’ doesn’t it?”

Leliana’s eyes shifted away. She didn’t really want Zevran thinking she had run giddily up to Shahar to tell her about his little secret word. How had she gotten herself in the middle of this?

“In Orlesian? Yes, it does,” she responded cheerfully. “How did you guess?”

Shahar smirked. “One of the songs you were teaching me. What was it? Chanson d’Amour?”

Leliana smiled, hoping this was all the conversation was about. “Oh! The Love Song! One of my favorites.”

Shahar nodded. “So, ‘song’ in Antivan is ‘canzone.’ Pretty close, huh?”

Leliana sighed. There is just no getting out of this one, is there?

“Amore means love in Antivan, doesn’t it?” Shahar’s wit might have been razor sharp, but she wielded it like a battering ram most of the time.

Zevran’s going to kill me for teaching her that song, Leliana thought.

“Can I ask you something?” Leliana asked.

Shahar just sighed in response, like she already knew the question.

“Do you love him?”

“I- ” Shahar hesitated. “I don’t know.” She rolled her shoulders, more of a fidget than any actual need to stretch. “I’ve never been ‘in love’ before. How do you know?” Her eyes were locked firmly on the road ahead. She fidgeted with her hands, looking suddenly much younger. ...or maybe just her actual age, for a change.

Leliana nearly rolled her eyes in exasperation. These two…

“I mean, even if I did, what’s the point, right?” Shahar continued nervously. “I doubt he’s going to hang around after we’re finished all this. He’d be bored to death. It’s just an affectation anyway. He’s probably already bored with me,” she said, obviously trying to convince herself of… something. She got this look of certainty on her face and crossed her arms over her chest, like she’d decided in that moment that Zevran was bored with her. Yes, that absolutely must be the case.

Leliana shook her head in astonishment. “Shahar, why would he still be sleeping with you if he was bored?”

Shahar shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m convenient. I’m the only one here who will.”

“And that is why he spends so much time talking with you too? Even though he has made quite a few other friends? Or why he stays with you when you seem upset? Or why he sleeps in your tent now, when he never used to? Or- ”

“Ok, ok,” Shahar held up her hands. “It still doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t work.”

Leliana sighed aloud this time. Loudly. Throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “Shahar, if you both keep dancing around this, then it really won’t work. One of you needs to just- grow a spine and talk about it!”

Shahar looked at her. After a moment, she smirked. “You’re a good friend, Leli.”

Leliana shook her head. Void take her if she’d let her friend- friends, really- ruin such a good thing because they couldn’t come to terms with having feelings like grown-ups.

“So you won’t tell Zevran I told you?”

Shahar grinned. “Told me what?”

“You have a terrible poker face.”

“I do not!” Shahar attempted something more serious, the corners of her mouth refusing to stop quirking.

“Zevran is going to stab me in my sleep,” Leliana moaned.

“Hmm…” Shahar pondered that for a moment. “I’d check my dinner first.”

Leliana laughed. “You’re terrible.”


End file.
